


bleach

by groaninlynch



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, M/M, read as shippy or gen idc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 08:38:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5736922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groaninlynch/pseuds/groaninlynch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shouyou helps bleach Kenma's hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bleach

**Author's Note:**

> u can read this as KenKuro or KenHina or KuroTsukki (for the 5 seconds tsukkis mentioned) or all of them or none of them. idc my guy i support it all so have fun. i just wanted to write about ppl helping bleach kenmas hair lol
> 
> i dedicate this to the #suffersquad :^))))

“You should bleach your hair,” Kuroo had said out of the blue one day during summer break. They were on Kenma’s floor, Kuroo sitting with his back to the bed, tapping away on his phone, and Kenma laying down, his head pillowed on Kuroo’s stomach. The overhead fan was making a valiant effort at blasting away the stifling heat, ultimately failing at doing anything other than creak loudly.

“Why?” Kenma had asked, glancing up from his PSP. Kuroo stopped messing with his phone and looked down at him.

“Nekoma doesn’t have rules against it, so why not?” He passed a hand over Kenma’s hair, deep brown and laden with split ends. “They don’t care what we do.”

Kenma hadn’t particularly cared either; he wasn’t terribly attached to his hair or anything about his appearance in any way. He almost asked why Kuroo didn’t just bleach his own hair, but Kenma figured the weird gelling job he did was more than enough. So he just turned on his side, snuggling into a better position against Kuroo, and went back to his game, saying absently, “Okay.”

* * * * *

Neither of them had ever bleached or dyed hair before, so it was very much a learn-as-they-went experience. That kind of unguided process usually spelled disaster where Kuroo was concerned, with Kenma as collateral damage.

When Kuroo had opened the package of powdered bleach, some of it had drifted up his nose and he sneezed violently enough to nearly spill the rest on the ground. The smell of the mixed bleach almost made them both pass out before they got a chance to open the bathroom door and switch on the vent. Kenma was unpleasantly surprised to feel his scalp prickling then full-on burning from the bleach, but even more so when Kuroo screeched and stuck his hands under the faucet because he had forgotten to put on gloves.

(He still has small patches on his hands where the skin is lighter from being bleached out. “Battle scars,” he’ll say with a Cheshire grin whenever he catches Kenma frowning at them. It just makes him frown even more.)

Once they got into the groove of it, though, it was almost relaxing. Kenma happily didn’t have to do much more than sit still and watch his hair slowly lighten in the mirror. Kuroo’s sharp eyes sought out any spot he hadn’t yet covered, fingers deftly parting strands out of the way. His hands were gentle and sure as he worked.

Kenma hadn’t expected to either like or dislike the end result, so after he washed the bleach out and looked at himself in the mirror, he was surprised. It was strange, expecting to see brown and being met with blonde, but it was… He had reached up and combed a hand through his wet hair, watching pale strands fall away from his palm. It was nice. He looked kinda cool.

Kuroo had appeared behind him with a glass of water in one hand and a towel in the other. Kenma saw Kuroo’s eyebrows disappear upward as he took in the hair. Kenma had braced himself for the inevitable excited outburst, but all he got was the glass of water put in his hands and Kuroo saying, “Kenma, I think this really suits you.”

Kenma had felt his cheeks tinge with heat at Kuroo’s unexpected sincerity, looking down at the bathroom floor with quiet embarrassment as Kuroo softly dried his hair. When he was done, Kuroo had put the towel on the sink and his hands in Kenma’s hair, drawing his fingers through it.

“So do you like it?” Kuroo had asked, starting again at the roots and pulling his hands downward.

“Yeah,” Kenma had said. The more he stared at the lightness framing his reflection’s face, the more it appealed to him.

Kuroo’s hands abruptly stilled, and at last came the outburst: “Why, Kozume Kenma, is that a _smile_ I see on your youthful face?”

“Shut up,” Kenma had said without any heat, covering his mouth.

Kuroo had smirked and bent to wrap his arms around Kenma, pushing his head right next to Kenma’s. Kuroo’s jet black hair made the blonde stand out even more. “You’re the most beautiful belle at the ball,” Kuroo had said around his sharky grin.

Kenma hadn’t replied. He couldn’t stop smiling.

* * * * *

As Kenma’s natural brown gradually crept outward, Kuroo began asking if Kenma wanted to touch up his roots. Kenma didn’t really mind the way it looked, and in any case between volleyball and school and Kenma’s very important gaming lifestyle, there just wasn’t any time.

Then a holiday rolls around, and Kenma gets two texts simultaneously.

Kenma probably would have missed or flat-out ignored the buzzing if it had been just one text – he was fully submerged in a really interesting arc in his game – but the double onslaught sends his phone careening off the table and onto the floor. Kenma sighs, presses pause, and picks up his phone.

> **KUROO** : hey wanna do ur hair over holiday?
> 
> **SHOUYOU** : kenma!!!! i wanna visit u since we’re both on break can i??

The message from Kuroo isn’t that surprising, but Shouyou’s catches him off-guard, which is pretty par for the course. He texts Shouyou back first.

> **YOU** : yeah ill ask my mom
> 
> **SHOUYOU** : OKAY!! o(^▽^)o

Kenma finds it incredible how someone can be so loud over text. He tabs to Kuroo’s message and considers. There’s no reason _not_ to re-bleach his roots; he would get his homework done as soon as possible so he could spend the holiday playing games anyway. It’s not like he ever has anything else going on. Oh, wait, but Shouyou’s coming over this time, so he probably shouldn’t ditch him to go to Kuroo’s... Kuroo could come over, but between him and Shouyou it would get way too loud…

Oh, wait, wait.

Kenma goes back to his conversation with Shouyou and taps out a message.

> **YOU** : wanna help me bleach my hair?

He’s barely pressed _Send_ before he gets a reply, which is just a bunch of question marks. Kenma is confused by Shouyou’s confusion – he rereads his text and doesn’t get what could be so cryptic about it.

His phone buzzes again.

> **SHOUYOU** : ?????
> 
> **SHOUYOU** : bleach?? like for clothes???

Kenma snorts.

> **YOU** : no its specially made for hair. makes it blonde.
> 
> **YOU** : my roots have grown out, so…
> 
> **SHOUYOU** : (๑° o °๑) COOOOOL!!!!
> 
> **SHOUYOU** : ill totally help you!!
> 
> **YOU** : ok. thank u

Kenma’s thumbs pause over the keyboard for a moment as he considers. Would it be weird to… No, Shouyou wouldn’t think it’s weird. It’s fine. He decides to go for it.

> **YOU** : (◠‿◠)

It’s weird. It’s definitely weird.

> **SHOUYOU** : (((o(*°▽°*)o))) see u soon kenma!!

But not to Shouyou, obviously. He doesn’t bother pointing out that he still has to ask his parents’ permission because they’ll no doubt be elated that a friend other than Kuroo 1. exists and 2. wants to visit. Kenma tabs back to Kuroo’s text.

> **YOU** : shouyous gonna help me
> 
> **KUROO** : hinata?? from karasuno?
> 
> **YOU** : yeah
> 
> **KUROO** : hes gonna help u bleach ur hair from 3 hours away? lol
> 
> **YOU** : no hes visiting over break
> 
> **KUROO** : ohoho! ohohohohoho!!!
> 
> **YOU** : stop
> 
> **KUROO** : oho ;)
> 
> **KUROO** : thats nice of him
> 
> **YOU** : yeah
> 
> **KUROO** : maybe i’ll come over to see him :)
> 
> **YOU** : absolutely not
> 
> **KUROO** : do u think tsukki would visit if i asked
> 
> **YOU** : i doubt it
> 
> **KUROO** : :’(
> 
> **KUROO** : tell me when hinata gets here!
> 
> **YOU** : i will not

* * * * *

Kenma decides it’s probably better to go alone to buy the bleach kit rather than wait for Shouyou to arrive and go together. There wasn’t any point in bringing him since he clearly knew nothing about bleaching.

Honestly speaking, Kenma was more than a little apprehensive to give Shouyou more exposure to that knowledge than was strictly necessary. When he’d gone with Kuroo that first time, Kenma had just barely escaped the store without being forced to buy the blue hair dye Kuroo had spotted. Going blonde was one thing; something as flashy as electric blue was totally out of Kenma’s realm. The only reason he got out of that unscathed was because Kenma is basically immune to Kuroo’s coercive ways thanks to constant exposure.

Shouyou was too much of an unknown. Kenma feared one look into those big brown eyes and he’ll be going back to school with bright orange hair just because Shouyou “wanted to match.” Kenma knows his own limits.

He gets the bleach kit, and then after a moment of consideration, picks up an extra pairs of gloves. He’s learned that it’s always better to be overprepared for disaster.

* * * * *

Kenma spends the week leading up to Shouyou’s arrival in Tokyo storing up his energy, which basically means not talking to Kuroo at all outside of volleyball stuff. It’s admittedly a little lonely, like how it was when Kuroo was starting high school and he was still stuck in middle school, but luckily Kuroo understands and gives him space, other than a text that said _im gonna text tsukki lol wish me luck!_

The morning of the start of break, Kenma gets a message from Shouyou that says he’s on the train to Tokyo with the addition of eleven too many exclamation points, and Kenma supposes with some chagrin that it really _was_ a good idea to prepare himself.

When Shouyou bounds off the train, spots Kenma, _races_ toward him and _leaps_ into Kenma’s arms, nearly sending them both sprawling on the station platform, he _knows_ it was a good idea.

They don’t go right into bleaching his hair because the smell gives Kenma’s mom a headache, so they spend the weekend playing video games and checking out places around the city, Shouyou gawking at the height of the buildings. Kenma wonders if a city setting wouldn’t be a better match for Shouyou’s energy than the slow town of Torono, but privately thinks growing up in the countryside is what helped make Shouyou so kind.

His parents leave early for work, long before Shouyou has even considered waking up, so Kenma waits Shouyou’s eyes drowsily drift open to start making breakfast. Once everything is made and they’ve started to dig in, Kenma asks, maybe a little hesitantly, “You wanna do my hair today?”

He silently hands Shouyou a napkin when orange juice dribbles down his chin as he opens his mouth in a wide grin, exclaiming far too loudly for the hour, “Yeah!”

* * * * *

After they’ve cleaned up the kitchen and Kenma deftly saves Shouyou from sliding face-first into a wall in his excitement to get to the bathroom, they start to set up. Not they – Kenma. Kenma sets up while Shouyou fidgets behind him, staring over his shoulder at every item Kenma puts out with stars in his eyes. Kenma explains what everything will be used for as he sets them on the bathroom counter – hair clips for making sections, the little brush for spreading the bleach, the plastic bowl where the developer and powdered bleach will be mixed together. Shouyou desperately wants to mix it. Kenma resolutely mixes it himself.

Ten minutes later and Kenma is sitting in front of the sink with a towel around his shoulders, Shouyou standing over him in old sweatpants and a well-worn shirt from his volleyball club. He’s got a look of aggressive determination drilling into the back of Kenma’s head that’s making him more than a little worried. He feels like he’s about to be executed.

“Can you relax?” Kenma asks quietly, thumbing nervously at a hole in his pajamas. “You’re kinda freaking me out.” Like a volleyball. That’s what it was. Shouyou was staring at him like he was a volleyball he was about to spike the hell out of.

“Oh, sorry!” Shouyou says, his intense gaze immediately melting into watery concern. He pulls at the hem of his shirt and frowns. “I just don’t wanna mess it up.”

“You won’t.” Hopefully.

Shouyou worries at his lip for a moment before saying, “Okay.” He hesitates for another second before visibly steeling himself and reaching for some of the hair clips and getting to work parting Kenma’s hair into sections. It’s quiet save for the whirring of the vent sucking up most of the bleach smell and Shouyou’s frantic apology when he accidentally pulls on Kenma’s head too hard.

When he’s done, Shouyou grins at Kenma’s reflection in the mirror, saying, “You should wear your hair like this more often!”

Clips are sticking out everywhere in spiky disarray and his hair looks like an erratic bird’s nest. He looks like the result of Picasso’s failed attempt at being a barber. Kenma fixes him with a flat stare.

Shouyou laughs brightly as he pulls on a pair of gloves, playfully snapping the cuffs to his skin. “I feel like a surgeon!” he says, flexing his fingers in the pale blue material. He affects a dramatized scowl and sticks a hand over Kenma’s shoulder, demanding in what he clearly thinks is a professional surgeon’s voice, “Scalpel.”

Kenma swallows a weary sigh and slaps the tiny brush into Shouyou’s outstretched palm. He’s so strange. Kenma tries to imagine being at Karasuno, or Shouyou at Nekoma, both of them on the same team and being together constantly, and he immediately feels exhausted. He can’t picture being able to continually withstand a neverending outpour of Shouyou’s sunrays. Kuroo is obnoxious, and can definitely be loud when he wants to be, but generally he’s quiet and steady when he’s with Kenma. Shouyou doesn’t have that switch; he’s wakes up on ten and doesn’t quit until he’s asleep. It’s incredible, and admittedly a little awing.

But still, whenever his phone lights up with a new text from Shouyou, Kenma finds he’s glad Shouyou stumbled upon him and, in his typical altruistic way, struck up a friendship.

“What’cha smilin’ about?” Shouyou asks as he reaches for the bowl of bleach, startling Kenma out of his thoughts. He puts a hand up to his face. No one is ever more surprised to catch him smiling than himself.

Kenma shakes his head in reply, refolding his hands in his lap.

“Mm’kay,” Shouyou agrees easily, preoccupied with gathering lilac goop on the brush. He scrunches up his face, letting the stuff slide off and back into the bowl. “This smells so awful. It’s, like, stinging my nose.”

“It burns.”

“Huh?” Shouyou asks distractedly, stirring the bleach around.

“The bleach,” Kenma says. “It burns my scalp.”

“ _WHAT?_ ” Shouyou yells. Kenma watches as Shouyou’s arms start their characteristic flail upward and half a breath later he’s twisted around in his seat, hands clamped around Shouyou’s wrists. The brush goes clattering to the floor, spraying bleach across the tile, but luckily the bowl is still firmly in Shouyou’s grip.

“Don’t fling this around,” Kenma advises calmly. He supposes he ought to have expected this kind of reaction, but he’s somehow caught off-guard every time. It’s probably good for Shouyou to get it out of his system now, though, so he doesn’t end up burning himself like Kuroo had – or worse.

“O-oh,” Shouyou stutters, glancing guiltily at the mess on the floor. “Sorry.” Once he feels the tension leave Shouyou’s arms, Kenma releases him and turns back around. Shouyou bends to pick up the discarded brush, and when he comes back into the mirror’s view, he’s staring down at the small plastic bowl in his hand with a look of express distrust and concern. Kenma sighs.

“It doesn’t hurt that bad, Shouyou,” he says, aiming for a reassuring tone and no doubt missing by a mile, “it’s mostly sorta itchy.”

Shouyou meets Kenma’s eyes in the mirror, worry still pulling at his brow. It doesn’t suit him. Anything other than a sunny grin and gleaming eyes sits strangely on Shouyou’s face. “Really?” he asks, cautious. “It’s okay?”

Kenma just nods.

Shouyou considers him for a moment, then the bleach, then Kenma again. Hesitance doesn’t suit him, either. But finally the disconcertion clears, and his features settle into their natural state of a relaxed smile, shallow dimples accenting his rosy cheeks.

“’Kay,” Shouyou says, and goes back to fishing bleach up onto the brush’s bristles. Kenma’s shoulders slump minutely, relieved that Shouyou is so agreeable and forgiving.

Shouyou scrapes a little extra off on the side of the bowl, takes a deep breath as though to steel himself, and, at long last, gets to work.

Kenma immediately notices how much smaller his hands are than Kuroo’s. Logically he knew this, but it’s another thing to actually feel the difference. Shouyou’s touches are a little lighter, careful and considerate where Kuroo had been familiar. It was no less comforting.

Shouyou eventually stops worriedly asking Kenma to move his head this way or that and falls quiet, instead giving suggestions with his fingers. Kenma lets himself be adjusted, totally at ease, and listens to the hum of the overhead vent, the brush scraping against the plastic bowl, Shouyou’s soft breathing. The tiled floor is cold under his bare feet. Kenma runs his fingernails over the backs of his hands to distract from his irritated scalp.

He takes in Shouyou for a moment – the focus in his eyes, the tip of his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth, the splotch of bleach on his shirt already leaving a pale spot – and he thinks, _This is really nice_. Then he thinks, _Shouyou is really nice._

If there’s one thing Kenma is envious of, it’s Shouyou’s straightforwardness, his open disposition. He doesn’t deeply analyze and calculate every little thing. He’s not prone to brooding, obsessing. Even Kuroo is a thinker, a planner, like Kenma. Shouyou just _says_. He _does_.

It’s hard attempting to emulate that action-oriented mindset after a lifetime of mute observation, but despite how awkward it is, Kenma usually finds the reaction to be worth the effort.

So before he gives himself the chance to overthink it, he says quietly, “I’m glad I met you.”

Shouyou’s hands still, and his gaze finds Kenma’s in the mirror. Kenma forces himself not to look away. He watches in realtime as Shouyou’s concentration falls away, his mouth opening in a surprised _O_ before stretching and stretching into the sunniest, happiest smile to date. It’s impossibly bright. Kenma fidgets.

“Me too!” Shouyou chirps loudly. His eyes are glistening. Kenma prays Shouyou doesn’t cry.

Shouyou looks away for a moment before starting to brush bleach along Kenma’s roots again, and Kenma thinks that’s the end of it. Then Shouyou says again, with a gentler smile, in a softer voice, “Me too. A whole, whole lot.”

This time, Kenma isn’t surprised when he feels himself smile back. He doesn’t bother to cover his mouth.

* * * * *

After the bleach finishes setting and he washes it out, Kenma dries his own hair while Shouyou cleans up, throwing away the empty bowl and towelling away the spilled bleach from earlier. Shouyou goes off to change his clothes, complaining about the stinging bleach smell making his eyes water.

Last time, Kenma’s hair had gotten really stiff and stringy once it had finished drying all the way. Online forums suggested combing leave-in conditioner through it after washing it all out to keep that from happening. Kenma didn’t tend to care too much about proper hair care, but it had been gross enough that he wanted to avoid repeating the experience if possible.

He puts the towel down on the sink and snaps open the conditioner, dispensing some into his palms and rubbing his hands together before smoothing it over his hair. He’s just started to pass the comb through when Shouyou comes back and exclaims loudly.

Kenma lowers the comb and turns to Shouyou, deeply concerned about what trouble he could have gotten into in the five minutes Kenma wasn’t supervising him. “What’s wrong?” he asks tentatively, half-afraid of the answer.

“You’re so pretty!” Shouyou replies excitedly, gaze darting from Kenma’s face to his hair to his face again. There are stars in his eyes. He can’t seem to believe what he’s seeing.

“What…” is all Kenma manages in response. He stares at the floor, cheeks burning from Shouyou’s scrutiny.

“I mean, _obviously_ you were pretty before,” he goes on, stepping into the bathroom and closer to Kenma. He reaches out, then pauses, his hand hovering in the space between them. Kenma looks up questioningly, and Shouyou asks, “Can I touch your hair?”

That seems like a strange question to ask, given that’s all he was doing for the past hour, but maybe Shouyou thinks it’s different. He’s always so respectful of Kenma’s boundaries. Kenma nods mutely.

Shouyou doesn’t tangle his fingers into the strands like Kuroo, instead opting to sort of carefully pet him. He says, “It’s so soft!” and “It definitely looked cool before but it’s even better this way” and “You look super, super pretty.” Kenma doesn’t know what to do other than turn redder and redder, twisting the comb in his hands, embarrassed and a tiny bit pleased.

“Are you okay?” Shouyou asks, pausing in twirling a blonde strand around his finger.

“Yeah,” Kenma says softly, and then softer, “um,” and softer still, “thank you.”

Shouyou tips his head like he’s not aware of doing anything worth thanking, and opens his mouth as though to ask, but then he sees the comb in Kenma’s whiteknuckled grip and asks instead, “Were you combing your hair just now?”

Kenma nods. He’s not at all surprised when Shouyou lights up and says, “Can I do it?”, just nods again and retakes his seat in front of the sink, handing over the comb. Kenma puts his hands up to his heated face, trying to cool away the blush.

Shouyou starts to hum, all too happy for such a mundane task, his fingers occasionally chasing the comb’s path through soft strands. Kenma eventually stops being so embarrassed and settles back into the chair, letting the familiar feeling of kind hands in his hair soothe him.

**Author's Note:**

> if u read this all the way thru........... thank u. we're married now.
> 
> source for all info about bleaching: me and my many bleaching&dyeing misadventures. so many. too many,,
> 
> also i mayhaps might perhaps be writing a partner fic about tsukki maybe perhaps visiting kuroo. perhaps. maybe. dont hold me to it tho


End file.
